


Dive On In

by Pompeiigraffiti, wollaston



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pompeiigraffiti/pseuds/Pompeiigraffiti, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollaston/pseuds/wollaston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with Gale in a bar, he somehow keeps popping up in her life. What will it take for Madge to take the plunge and give him a chance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dive On In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambpersand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambpersand/gifts).



Madge hated these stupid fucking benefits. Hated campaigning in general, if she was being perfectly honest. Hated her role as Senator's Daughter. And more than anything she hated the lectures she had to sit through every time another picture of her stumbling out of some shitty bar at 3 am turned up in a WickedLocal editorial alongside a 1600 word rant about her failure as a role model. Madge never asked to be a fucking role model. She certainly never asked for any of the bullshit her father's campaign manager was currently spouting in her face.

 

“You need to behave yourself,” the woman snapped, taking the glass of champagne from Madge's hand. “And you need to pull up that fucking dress. You look like a whore.” Madge rolled her eyes, hitching up the front of her dress. “Go out there, smile, and try to convince these people that Burton hasn't completely lost control of his daughter. And I swear to God if I catch you in the bathroom with another intern from the House I will make your life a living hell.”

 

“Thank you, _Sarah_ ,” Madge spat, pushing herself away from the wall she'd spent the past two hours holding up, immediately snatching a fresh glass of champagne from one of the waiters milling through the room. She tolerated the conversations that drifted her way with as little eye rolling and blank staring as she could muster, flashing a winning smile to every question that cropped up about _the environment_ or _managing the cost of secondary education_ or whatever it was that she, as a blue-blooded young woman, was meant to be passionate about. At that very moment, the only thing Madge was passionate about was getting the fuck out of the building. How on earth she'd manage to pay back the five semesters she'd recently wasted at Northeastern with daddy's millions certainly wasn't weighing on her mind.

 

As soon as she saw her opportunity, which was immediately following her father's speech when every suit in the room was jostling to shake his hand, she ducked out the door, hopped the Green Line, and made her way halfway across the city before anyone even noticed her absence. She got off at Haymarket, tugging her coat around herself and cursing the cold. She didn't even particularly like this bar, though it was a vast improvement over where she'd spent the majority of her night. She also knew that the majority of the people she could still tolerate from school would be milling around somewhere inside, likely on the second floor, already sloshed and grinding on the dance floor. Madge would need a few more drinks to prepare herself for that scene. She breezed past both the bouncer and the cover charge without a second glance, beelining for the bar on the first floor. She ordered without a second glance at the bartender, turning away to scan the room for anyone she knew.

 

“You're dressed a little too nice for this shithole,” the bartender said, raising his voice to be heard over the band at the opposite end of the room. Madge turned around as he slid her drink towards her. She flashed a brief, painfully fake smile. Flirting with bartenders, no matter how chiseled and striking, was still a few drinks off. His smile was genuine, and he lingered in front of her until an impatient patron at the opposite end of the bar demanded his attention. She picked up her drink and turned away from the bar, slamming into a curvy blonde and spilling half of her drink down the front of her dress.

 

“Motherfucker,” Madge hissed, looking down at herself, and feeling more annoyed at the loss of her drink than the ruined dress.

 

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” the girl said, shoving past Madge to snatch a few napkins off of the bar and turning back to blot down the front of her dress. “Seriously I didn't even _see_ you there. I'm such an idiot and—oh my god. Madge.”

 

“Hi Delly,” Madge smirked. She wasn't at all surprised this was the first person she bumped into.

 

“I haven't seen you in _months_ , and the first thing I do is ruin your dress,” Delly gestured to the dark stain on the front of Madge's dress. “At least you know I haven't changed, I guess. How was Washington or whatever?”

 

“Awful,” she rolled her eyes. “I've been back for a few weeks, though. Mighty campaign trail brings us home. What's new with you?”

 

“That,” Delly grinned, pointing over her shoulder at a bored looking brunette with short, spiky hair. When she caught them looking at her she cocked her head to one side impatiently, tilting her empty cup upside down. “I'm pretty sure I might be her 'phase', but she's so hot I don't even care. Katniss introduced us.”

 

“She is pretty hot,” Madge conceded. “How is Katniss, anyway? She didn't return any of my texts when I got back to the city.”

 

“Oh god,” Delly rolled her eyes. “None of us even see her anymore. She started dating this RISD kid I accidentally introduced her to a while ago, and that's basically her entire world now.”

 

“Katniss?” Madge raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” Madge and Katniss had spent most of Madge's brief college career attached at the hip, and not once had the other girl expressed even the slightest interest in a relationship with the opposite sex that went beyond friends with benefits.

 

“I know,” Delly sighed, reaching down the front of her shirt and producing her phone from her cleavage. “They were supposed to meet us here tonight and she hasn't even answered me. Bitch.”

 

“So, can I meet your girlfriend?” Madge asked.

 

“On one condition,” Delly said. Madge raised an eyebrow. “You use whatever mojo you've been working on that bartender who hasn't stopped eyefucking you since I got over here and get us all free drinks.”

 

“What?” Madge snapped. Delly just cast a pointed look toward the bar, and Madge turned around. The bartender smiled at her before looking back down at the pitcher he was pouring. Madge rolled her eyes before turning an exasperated look toward Delly. She was met with nothing more than an expectant smile. She tugged down the front of her dress, ran her hand through her hair and strode back to the bar. “Hey.”

 

“Hi,” the bartender smirked, his eyes dropping to the front of Madge's dress as she leaned forward against the bar.

 

“Listen, my dumbass friend spilled my drink all over me, and she still thinks that she and her bi-curious girlfriend deserve a free round,” Madge gestured over her shoulder toward Delly. The bartender barely even glanced past her.

 

“So what're they drinking?” he asked, immediately mixing another for Madge. Given how busy the bar was, she was surprised that he remembered.

 

“I don't really care, just make me two more of those,” she said, earning a chuckle out of him. Madge snatched the drinks from the bar as soon as he'd finished, weaving her way back to Delly. Over a plate of cold, congealing hot wings Madge learned her girlfriend's name was Johanna, she was from Vancouver, and she hated everything about New England. Especially, apparently, the men. Madge couldn't even really find fault in her assessment. As soon as their drinks were gone the three girls made their way upstairs. The music drowned out any attempts at conversation. Madge was perfectly content with dancing and grinding with the girls as their drinks disappeared. She felt someone at her back and rolled her eyes, turning around and gearing up with the most scathing dismissal her drunken brain could muster up. She turned directly into the arms of the bartender from downstairs.

 

“What the fuck? Shouldn't you be working?” Madge snapped, turning away from him. His hands moved over her waist, completely undaunted.

 

“I had a break,” he leaned close to her to be heard over the music. “I want to talk to you.”

 

“I'm not yelling to you over this shitty music,” she shot back. She didn't particularly want to talk to him at all. Between the booze sloshing through her, and the carefully timed faux-flirtation out of Delly to keep the aggressive bros away, Madge was enjoying the way her night had shaped up. All Delly had to offer now was a playful smile as she turned away.

 

“Come on, then,” the man tugged at her arm gently before weaving through the people around them, heading for the stairs. She sighed, staring at his back for a moment before following him. He led her back to the first floor, though the noise from the band playing there was no better. He continued down a second flight of stairs, into a narrow, dim corridor that culminated in two closed doors, one of which was clearly labeled as a bathroom. Before she could protest he shoved the second door open, leading her into a claustrophobic storage room. Once the door was closed behind them the noise from above was muffled to a dull roar. He snatched a pack of cigarettes off of one of the shelves, lighting one for each of them. “I'm Gale.”

 

“Madge,” she accepted the cigarette, glancing down at it between her fingers before taking a drag.

 

“So what's with the fancy getup?” he gestured to her dress. “Herve Leger doesn't usually waltz in here to grind between a pair of faux lesbians on a Friday night.”

 

“Delly's legit, watch your fucking mouth,” Madge pointed at him. “And why are you dragging me into a basement closet if you know this dress? That team isn't interested in what's under it.”

 

“My mother runs a cleaners near Beacon Hill,” he smirked, blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “I'm sure I'll get a call tomorrow to help scrub the vodka out of the front of that thing.”

 

“So you are interested,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I didn't drag you down here to give you a guilt trip about my mother's shitty job,” he said. “That was just a happy little coincidence.”

 

“So why did you?” Madge tossed her cigarette to the ground, crushing it under the toe of her pumps. She knew; she just liked forcing the first move. Gale took a slow drag from his own cigarette, snuffed it out in an ashtray on one of the shelves, and closed the space between them before leaning down to kiss her. His hands slid over her waist, pushing up the fabric of her dress as his tongue probed against her lips. Madge chuckled to herself softly and he pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “This isn't talking.”

 

“Well by all means,” he said, his hands still working the fabric of her dress up her thighs. “Let's talk.”

 

“Shut up,” Madge smirked, snaking her hand between them and cupping the front of his jeans. “How long is your break?” Gale let out a pleased thrum, pressing into her hand and covering her mouth with his. He hiked her dress up to her waist, slipping his hand between her thighs and pushing the fabric of her panties aside to rub his fingers over her folds. She gasped, tightening her grip on his growing erection and wondering why the fuck she'd even considered eliminating getting laid from her list of things to accomplish before going home.

 

Gale moaned quietly against her lips as she unbuttoned his jeans, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers to shove both of them down off of his hips in one gesture. She curled her other hand around his cock, pumping her fist over his length and smiling to herself when he gasped. He shoved her hand away, panting against her lips, his hand withdrawing from between her thighs. He fumbled with his pants for a moment, glancing down as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled a condom from it before tossing it aside, fumbling between them for a moment as Madge kissed his neck. Her head swam when he lifted her by her thighs, pressing her back against the closed door. She wrapped her legs around him as he pulled her panties aside to thrust up into her, opening and filling her and dragging high, whining moans from her throat.

 

Madge dropped her head back against the door, lacing her fingers together at the back of his neck. Gale pumped himself into her, his fingers digging bruises into the pale flesh of her thighs, and his face buried in the crook of her neck. Her toes curled, her shoes dropping off of her feet and clattering to the floor. Madge arched her back, grinding on him as she tightened, reaching between them to rub at her clit.

 

“Ah, fuck,” Gale nipped at her lips, pressing her against the door as he fucked her. Her thighs trembled, her voice rising. He pressed her down against him as she came, her voice echoing through the room. His hips bucked into her, driving her against the cold metal of the door, and he bit down on her neck as his own orgasm hit. He lowered her to the floor as they struggled to catch their breath. Madge slumped against the door, adjusting her clothing as she waited for her legs to solidify again. “Fuck, that was good.”

 

“Please don't ruin this by talking,” Madge said, toeing her shoes upright before stepping into them. Gale just laughed and turned away from her.

 

“Then give me your number so I can ruin it by talking when you sober up,” he smirked, yanking his pants back up as he turned back around to face her, leaving them open while he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

 

“I don't think so,” she raised an eyebrow, reaching into her dress and pulling her own phone from her bra. She had six texts, all from Delly, demanding to know where she'd disappeared to and informing her of their decision to leave. “Those bitches ditched me here.” Madge frowned, tapping out an annoyed response before turning to leave, teetering on her heels before grabbing the door handle.

 

“How are you getting home?” Gale followed behind her, buttoning up his pants and raising his voice over the music.

 

“You're not coming home with me,” Madge snapped. “And I'm not going home with you.”

 

“That's not what I asked, Princess,” he retorted. “I'm getting you a cab.”

 

“You're getting me shit,” she rolled her eyes, pulling herself up the stairs and heading straight for the exit, fully expecting to lose him before she even reached the door. The persistent little bastard followed her outside.

 

“I'm not just going to let you wander into the city in the middle of the fucking night,” he argued. Madge let out a harsh laugh, hugging her arms around herself. At some point during the night she'd misplaced her coat, and she had no intention of even slowing down at this point, let alone going back to the bar to find it. Gale hooked his arm around her waist before she even had the chance to cross the street, anchoring her to the sidewalk and hailing one of the cabs cruising past. She shoved him away before climbing into the back seat. He held onto the door, leaning in towards her. “I want to see you again.”

 

“Goodnight,” she pushed him back, tugging the door closed in his face and rattling off her address to the driver. She slumped in the back seat, pressing her thighs together and smiling to herself at the faint ache between her legs.

 

Madge stumbled through the front door of her home shortly before 3 am, dizzy and vaguely motion sick from the jerky stop-and-go cab ride home. There was a light on in the living room, though the place should have been dark, and her stomach hit the floor immediately. She knew what was coming. She tugged her shoes off, dropping them next to the door before moving through the doorway to the living room.

 

“Where were you?” Burton Undersee frowned at her from where he sat on the sofa. Technically, the brownstone was his, but he so rarely spent any nights in the city she'd claimed it for herself without fuss.

 

“I went out,” Madge fought the slur in her voice, leaning against the door frame to hide her swaying. “That party sucked.”

 

“Margaret, do we need to have this discussion again?” his voice was low and even, somehow worse than the patronizing bullshit he usually leaned toward when whatever she got up to threatened to fuck up his family man image. “You can't disappear. Not in the middle of events like these. Your presence is important, you know that. I can't-”

 

“You can't win over the Family Values Bourgeoisie of our great state without your well bred, well spoken, well behaved daughter to parade around,” she huffed, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“You're a grown woman. Get your shit together, Margaret,” he pushed up off of his seat, crossing the room to her. “I put up with entirely too much out of you. I hope you realize how easy you have it.”

 

“Yes, Father,” she said, waiting until he'd left the room before rolling her eyes. She turned to watch him climb the stairs, waiting until the door to his little-used bedroom slammed before climbing up herself. She kicked her door closed, stripped herself of her dress, and collapsed into her unmade bed, tugging the bunched up tangle of blankets over herself before dropping into sleep.

 

The next week brought little more than utter avoidance between Burton and his daughter. With no events to be dragged to and no desire to turn up to the third internship her father had foisted on her, Madge fell into a comfortable routine of staying up all night and sleeping past three every afternoon. When she could be bothered with getting dressed she spent her time out in the city, occasionally making the drive out to the suburbs to visit with her mother.

 

Madge hated driving. Hated it more than anything. Even more than public transit, and with the state of the subway, that was saying a whole hell of a lot. Driving in the suburbs was fine, in spite of how maddening every minute behind the wheel could be. Driving in the city was a nightmare. Even more of a nightmare when some bastard all but muscled you straight off of the road and into a phone pole, leaving you staring at the twisted mess of what used to be the front end of your car while he disappeared into the haphazard mass of traffic without so much as a middle finger to remember him by.

 

She stood on the sidewalk, staring down the damage and arguing angrily enough with her AAA agent to frighten off the few spectators who'd come to her aid. Forty minutes for a tow. No, they couldn't get anyone to her faster. Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Undersee. End of call. She leaned against the fender, signing off on whatever it was the reporting officer shoved under her nose and glaring off into the distance, willing time to pass faster.

 

It took ten rounds of Tiny Wings and half a dozen ignored, angry text messages from her father for the tow truck to finally show up. Of course someone on the force had let him know. The only thing that was saving her from a personal appearance by the man himself was a fund raising luncheon with the city's elite. She pulled open the passenger side door to retrieve her purse as the tow truck backed up in front of her busted M3. As soon as the driver slid out of the cab she sagged.

 

“Well, hello again.” That fucking bartender. Madge gaped at him, dredging around in her mind for his name. Glenn? No, that wasn't right.

 

“Hi,” she hitched her purse up onto her shoulder, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice as she yanked off her sunglasses and perched them on top of her head. Gale. That was his name. It said so right on the little red and white patch on the breast of his shirt. He waved to the officer who'd been directing traffic around her ruined car for the past hour, a young redhead who'd spent more time sneaking glances at her over his shoulder than doing his actual job.

 

“Good work,” Gale nodded toward the car. She wanted to slap that cocky smile off his stupid, handsome face.

 

“I thought you were a bartender,” she snapped.

 

“At night,” he handed her a clipboard and a pen. “Fill that out for me.” Madge sighed as she took them from him, glaring at his back as he turned back to the truck. She filled out the paperwork, waiting for him to hook up her car and wishing more than anything she could just pawn this entire mess off onto someone else and go the fuck home. It took a concentrated effort not to turn around and flip off a pedestrian who stopped to snap a cell phone picture of her as she climbed into the truck's cab.

 

“So are you going to make me tow you all the way to the dealership or can I just bring you to my buddy's garage around the corner?” Gale smirked, looking down at the clipboard before tucking it alongside his seat.

 

“Take me to the fucking dealership,” Madge shot him a look. “I'm not leaving my $80,000 car with your _bro_ in Brookline.”

 

“I didn't say 'bro', Princess,” he said, throwing the truck into gear and leaning out the window to watch for a spot to pull into traffic. “And we're in Roxbury.”

 

“Even better,” she scoffed. She could see him smiling in the side mirror and shifted in her seat, angling her body away from him with an annoyed sigh.

 

“Did you get home okay that night?”

 

“I got home fine,” she pulled her sunglasses off her head, sliding them back onto her face as she pulled out her phone, hoping to deter any further attempts at conversation.

 

“Good,” he said, turning back around as he nosed the truck out into the street. “I was hoping to run into you again, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I bet,” Madge scoffed.

 

“Can't really shake you, though your shitty attitude makes me wish I could,” he smirked, offering her a cigarette. She waved him off without even looking at him. The chuckle that elicited made her bristle. They fell into silence for a few minutes. After they pulled into the dealership's lot he reached over to her and set his hand on her knee. She looked down at his hand, her breath catching in her throat. “Give me your number. Let me take you out.”

 

“You're a presumptuous little fuck, you know that?” Madge snapped.

 

“And you're still sitting here,” he grinned. Madge rolled her eyes, yanking the door open and slipping out of the cab. She crossed the lot to the showroom, glancing over her shoulder toward the truck. He was still watching her with that stupid, smug grin on his face. She flipped him off as she stepped through the glass doors.

 

The paperwork felt endless, worsened by the fact that she couldn't so much as remember her damn plate numbers, let alone any of the other information required of her. She ran a hand through her hair, completing as much as she could without her registration on hand. That was still in the glove compartment, and getting it would mean admitting to someone she'd been dumb enough to leave it there in the first place. Just as she reached the bottom of the page Gale stepped through the door to the garage, waving her fucking registration card at her with a smug little smirk on his face. She snatched it out of his hand and finished the paperwork, handing it over to a waiting employee and willing Gale to leave.

 

“You're not sitting around here all day waiting,” he said, standing over her with his arms crossed. She sighed, reaching into her purse for her phone.

 

“I'll call a cab when I get bored,” she said without looking up from the phone.

 

“You're practically right up the street. Let me give you a ride,” he gestured in the general direction she lived. Madge looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Your address is on that form, remember? I know the city. You're close, I don't have any calls, let's go.”

 

“Fine,” she snapped, dropping her phone back into her purse and getting up from her chair. She couldn't even hold back her annoyed scoff when he went so far as to open the passenger side door for her.

 

“I knew you wouldn't say no,” he said as they pulled out of the dealership.

 

“Don't,” Madge rolled her eyes. He just chuckled, sneaking glances over at her every few minutes. Madge pretended not to notice, crossing her legs and leaning against the door as they drove.

 

“So are you going to invite me in?” Gale shot her a grin, cramming his truck into a miraculously vacated parking spot a few doors down from her place.

 

“Absolutely fucking not,” she chuckled. “I don't even know you. I forgot your name until I saw it on your stupid little shirt.” She pointed to his name patch.

 

“I'll have you know I had a hipster offer me fifty bucks for this thing last week,” he plucked at his shirt. “If I'd had a shirt on under it I would have taken the offer.”

 

“Tow company doesn't take kindly to shirtless service, then?” she smirked. Why wasn't she bailing already? She could see her front door, and she'd spent the entire drive here trying to teleport herself out of the truck.

 

“Ridiculous, right? Just think about how much more excited you would have been to see me,” he said, his smile shifting into something a little more wolfish. Madge just looked at him for a moment, allowing herself to truly take him in for the first time. The casual way he leaned back in his seat, his arm extended across the back of the cab; the drape of his work shirt betraying the cut of muscle beneath it. He was handsome. Sexy. His eyes alone were to die for and she couldn't even pinpoint the color. Not without a closer look, at least. She swore under her breath and shoved her purse to the floor, climbing across the cab of the truck and into his lap, her mouth seeking his as he slid his hands around her waist.

 

The worst part about fucking in the front of his truck was gracefully undressing. It took more squirming than Madge was prepared for, and after the sheer number of times she jammed her elbow into the horn there couldn't have been a single person in the neighborhood who hadn't caught sight of what was going on. Or an eyeful of Gale's ass once they finally gave up on sitting up and he laid her down across the bench seats.

 

Madge braced her hands against the passenger side door over her head as he drove into her, pressing herself down against him as she rocked her hips to meet his thrusts. She hooked her legs around his waist, lifting herself toward him, and he looped an arm around her, the other braced against the door above her head. He kissed her as he came, stifling her moans with his mouth and his tongue, rubbing his fingers against her to bring her to completion before he slipped out of her and lost his chance to feel it.

 

They pulled away from each other, straightening out their clothes as they caught their breath. Madge did her best to avoid eye contact, though she could feel Gale staring at her. She lifted her hips to pull her pants back up, sighing as she dropped back down and reached for her purse. He leaned forward, reaching below his seat and pulling out a bundle of dark fabric, tossing it to the seat between them. The coat she'd left at the bar.

 

“Are you serious?” she looked down at the coat before looking up at him. “That's been in your truck for like, two weeks. That's a little creepy.”

 

“It's been a week and a half, and I think you mean 'thank you',” he said. “You're welcome.”

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

“So now can I have your number?” Gale asked.

 

“No,” she glanced at him before looking back down to root for her keys.

 

“I'm starting to think you're just using me for my dick,” he smirked.

 

“Starting to?” Madge pulled her keys from her purse, giving him a look as she opened her door. “Thanks for the ride.”

 

“I'm pretty sure I should be thanking you,” he chuckled, watching as she slid out of the cab to the curb.

 

“Oh my god, shut up,” Madge slammed the door, walking up the sidewalk without looking back. He didn't even start the engine until she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

 

After Delly's news about Katniss' love life, Madge had renewed her effort to get in touch with the girl she'd once called her best friend. After Madge dropped out of school, they'd gradually lost touch, though if Dell was to be believed, that was a trend for Katniss lately. After a few days of persistence, one of her texts was finally answered.

 

_When did you get so needy?_

 

Madge smirked at her phone, realizing the daily emails and half dozen Facebook pokes she'd fired off that morning were probably a little over the top. _When did you jump on the monogamy train? We need to hang out._

 

_I'm in Providence for the weekend. Monday?_

 

The RISD kid. Of course. She'd seen the pictures on Facebook. The smiley blond was so far from Katniss' type Madge had a hard time believing any of it. _Perfect. Call me._

 

_K._

 

The rest of her afternoon passed peacefully, though she knew what was coming. The minute her father could tear himself away from his office he'd be all over her for the accident. As the sun went down she started to get antsy, debating whether or not she had enough time to slip out and find something to do for the night to avoid her father altogether.

 

“Margaret!” Burton Undersee's voice echoed through the house before he'd even closed the front door. Madge sighed, her shoulders sagging, and slumped to the top of the stairs as he called her name again.

 

“What?”

 

“What do you mean 'what'?” he snapped. “What the hell happened today?”

 

“I got run off the road,” she said. Burton raised his eyebrows pointedly. “ _I got run off the road_.”

 

“I have absolutely had enough of this,” he stood at the bottom step, gripping the banister in his fist as he looked up at her. “Stumbling out of every shithole bar in the city at ungodly hours of the night, the indecent exposure arrest last fall, that stunt with purple hair dye, those _disgusting_ dresses you insist on wearing to every event, and now this? You could have killed someone.”

 

“Yeah, I came dangerously close to committing vehicular homicide against a phone pole,” she rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest.

 

“ _In the middle of the city_ ,” he bellowed. “What if you'd hit someone, Margaret? My god, do you even think?”

 

“ _I'm sorry_ ,” she snapped. “That I didn't more carefully time my _accident_ so it didn't fuck up your piece of shit campaign. I don't want to be part of this bullshit, Dad.”

 

“You're part of this family; you're part of it,” he said. “You want to give things a shot on your own, fine. Find your own money, find your own place to live, find your own _job_ , and see how all that works out for you.” Madge took a breath to answer, cutting herself off as the point hit home. She wouldn't do any of those things, and he knew it. He knew exactly how to call her bluff. “You're coming to that Teamsters benefit next Saturday. You're not leaving in the middle of it. You're going to behave yourself. _Are we clear_?”

 

“Yeah,” she deadpanned, giving the best blank stare she could muster. Burton straightened up, rolling his shoulders and moving past the staircase into the house. Madge turned back toward her room, kicking the door closed behind her.

 

Her phone chimed a few hours later with a text from a number she didn't recognize, though 857 meant it was someone local.

 

 _Next time you need to buy me dinner first_.

 

Madge frowned, staring down at her phone for a moment and wracking her brain for anyone she'd given her number to recently. She came up completely blank. _Who the fuck is this?_

 

_Am I that easy to forget? How many guys did you fuck today?_

 

Gale. That little shit. _How did you get my number?_

 

 _It was on your invoice_.

 

Madge let out a brief, disbelieving chuckle. _I'm pretty sure I could get you fired for this._

 

_You could. But you won't._

 

She sighed. He was right. She wouldn't.

 

_So how about dinner?_

 

But that didn't mean she wanted to indulge in any of this bullshit. She dropped back on her bed, turning her attention back to her computer. A few minutes later the phone chimed again.

 

_Apple is making it entirely too easy to be creepy as fuck. Answer me. I know you read that._

 

_And that._

 

_The phone is in your hand. You're smiling at my adorable antics right now. Just answer me._

 

Madge laughed to herself. That cocky fuck had her pegged, and she certainly wasn't going to let him know it. She waited, tapping the screen to keep her phone from locking.

 

 _I'll fuck you again if you answer me_.

 

She laughed again, biting her lip and weighing whether or not to answer him. The grey text bubble appeared and disappeared on his side of the conversation a few times as she watched the screen. Then nothing. Did he give up? _Run out of adorable antics already?_

 

 _So you really are just using me for my dick_.

 

Madge rolled her eyes. _You're an ass_. She locked her phone, tossed it onto the nightstand, and ignored whatever else he had to say.

 

Later that week Madge made plans to meet Katniss for dinner, and found the dark haired girl halfway through a mammoth burrito by the time she arrived at the chosen place. She waved, making her way to the counter to order her own food before joining her friend to sit by the window.

 

“I'm sorry,” Katniss said around a mouthful of food, holding her hand up in a vain attempt to maintain some sort of dignity. “I was way too hungry to wait.”

 

“It's fine,” Madge chuckled, hanging her purse on the back of her chair before unwrapping her own burrito.

 

“So what's up? Why the sudden urgent need to see me?” Katniss folded her arms against the edge of the table.

 

“Sudden?” Madge smirked. “You're the one who stopped answering my texts months ago.” Katniss blushed, covering her eyes with her hand. Madge dropped her dinner to reach across the table and grab her friend's hand. She had a diamond on her ring finger; a marquis cut solitaire. Modest, beautiful, and unmistakeably an engagement ring. “Okay, what the fuck?”

 

“Yeah,” Katniss smiled and laughed before tugging her hand back and fiddling with the ring. “He asked this weekend. I haven't even told anyone.”

 

“Well, congratulations, I think,” Madge laughed. “What the hell, Kat? I don't even know this guy's name. Are you going to elope too?”

 

“Are you kidding? My mother would kill me,” she said. “His name's Peeta.”

 

“So you're marrying an art student named Peter that you've been dating for what, four months? I feel like my entire world is being shattered,” Madge raised an eyebrow.

 

“No,” Katniss chuckled. “My accent is not _that_ bad. Peeta. P-E-E-T-A. Not Peter.”

 

“What the fuck kind of name is Peeta?” Madge deadpanned. “Do I even want to know what your last name is going to be?”

 

“Mellark,” she smiled, looking down at her ring. “Don't make fun of his name.” Madge watched her friend for a few moments; the happy smile on her face, the faint bit of color in her cheeks.

 

“You are adorable,” she said. Katniss snapped her attention up toward Madge, her blush deepening.

 

“Shut up,” Katniss rolled her eyes, fiddling with the end of her braid. “Your dad's campaign is going well.”

 

“ _You_ shut up,” Madge picked up her burrito, rolling her eyes. “No political horseshit at the table. You know the rules.”

 

“I'm sorry!” Katniss laughed. “He has good policies. I'm voting for him.”

 

“Yeah, he's having a really hard time with the politically aware lefty college set. Thanks, I'll be sure to let him know,” Madge scoffed. Katniss just laughed before turning her attention back to her own meal. Katniss spent more of her time gushing over her new fiance than she did eating. Madge couldn't even stop herself from laughing at the complete turn Katniss had taken in the months since they'd seen each other. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out as Katniss animatedly related the tale of first meeting Peeta's brothers.

 

_So when are you going to stop ignoring me and let me take you out?_

 

“Oh my god,” Madge groaned, frowning at her phone.

 

“What?” Katniss cut herself off.

 

“I fucked this bartender, and he won't leave me alone,” she frowned. Katniss burst into laughter.

 

“Well at least _you_ haven't changed,” she said. “Though when did you start giving out your phone number?”

 

“He—stole it? It's a long story,” she waved her hand dismissively before tapping out her answer. _I am not going out with you. Give it a rest._

 

“Well, I'm tired of talking about my amazing life, so talk about yours,” Katniss said. Their dinner was long gone, reduced to a pile of crumpled napkins and foil wrappers on the table between them.

 

“The night I ran into Delly this bartender kept hitting on me,” she sighed, setting her phone down on the table. “He went so far as to hunt me down on the dance floor. He's hot. I was half in the bag. Obviously you know where that went.”

 

“Right,” Katniss smirked.

 

“So, remember how I mentioned crashing my car?” Madge asked, glancing down as her phone vibrated.

 

_You will at some point. How about we skip the going out part?_

 

Madge scoffed, physically restraining herself from rolling her eyes as she responded. _Fuck you_.

 

_That's the idea, Princess._

 

“So you crashed your car...” Katniss said, snatching the phone out of Madge's hands and putting it down on the table. “Into him?”

 

“I wish,” Madge said. “He was the tow guy that showed up.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Katniss held her hands up. “Did you fuck Gale Hawthorne?”

 

“I don't know his last name,” Madge said, completely unamused by the smile spreading across Katniss' face.

 

“Tall, movie star handsome, entirely too fucking cocky for a dumbass who drives a tow truck for a living and tends bar on the side?” Katniss snatched Madge's phone off of the table, laughing as soon as she saw the texts. She scrolled back through the conversation with a few swipes of her thumb. “Oh my god, that's his number. What the fuck, Madge?”

 

“How do _you_ know him?” Madge snatched her phone back.

 

“We grew up together. Our dads were best friends,” she said, getting her giggles under control. “You should go out with him. He's kind of a manwhore, but he's a really good guy. Tell him I said if he dicks you over I'll kill him in his sleep. That ought to strike some fear into his heart.” Katniss' own phone went off in her pocket and she jumped, pulling it out to check the screen. “Shit, that's Prim. I gotta go. Stay in touch, okay?”

 

“Yeah, _I'm_ the one with the problem with that,” Madge smirked. Katniss flipped her off as she walked away from the table, her phone pressed to her ear before she was even out the door.

 

Madge went out of her way to make herself late for the Teamsters dinner that weekend, forcing her father to leave without her and send the car back to get her. She loved the smirk on their driver's face when she sauntered down her front steps in one of the dresses Burton had specifically forbidden for the evening; skin tight, electric blue, far too short for her long legs. She slid into the back seat, smiling to herself at the glances he kept stealing in the rear view mirror. When she arrived at the union hall she stopped short in the lobby, staring at the sign directing visitors to the function room.

 

She hadn't even paid attention to what this stupid event was for; she didn't pay attention to any of them. Madge made her appearance, left as early as possible, and got on with her life. This time she probably should have paid attention. _Benefit for the Hawthorne Fund_. Of course. She swore under her breath, hoping it was nothing more than a coincidence and following the sign further into the building.

 

Burton's campaign manager all but launched herself at Madge the minute she stepped into the room. Madge ignored the woman's flustered criticism and scolding, slapping the woman's hands away when she discreetly tried to tug the hem of Madge's dress lower.

 

“Honestly,” Sarah huffed. “It's like you have some sort of disorder. No one finds this entertaining.”

 

“Not sorry,” Madge cocked her head to one side, flashing a smile as she breezed past Sarah and made her way to the bar. Halfway across the room her fears were confirmed. Gale had spotted her first. He was looking straight past the group of men he was conversing with to watch her cross the room. She just raised an eyebrow, tearing her eyes away from the way he filled out that suit. She lifted herself onto a chair by the bar, catching sight of the stern, carefully blank stare her father leveled in her direction from across the room.

 

“I was wondering if you were going to show up,” Gale said, sidling up to the bar beside her.

 

“Yeah? Figure out who I was from that tow invoice?” she said, glancing over at him and doing her best not to let herself stare.

 

“No,” he grinned. “I knew who you were when you turned up in the bar.”

 

“Nice,” she scoffed, accepting her drink from the bartender and shifting to look out across the room. Gale didn't move. She fidgeted under his gaze, hating that he threw her off. Nobody threw her off. “So what's this Hawthorne Fund thing about?”

 

“It's to benefit the surviving families of workers who die on the job,” he said, turning to lean back against the bar and extending one arm behind her. “A few of the guys who worked with my dad before he passed helped me get this thing started. Your father donated a shitload of money. It's helped a lot of people. Including the Everdeens.” Madge turned to look at him, fitting this new piece of information into the picture she'd developed of him. It didn't fit, and that made her like it a little more.

 

“She mentioned your fathers being friends,” Madge pointed out. Gale smirked and nodded, glancing down at the nearly empty glass in his hand.

 

“I know she also mentioned that you should give me a chance,” he said. “You already know I fuck like a champ, and you've got an entire room full of people here more than willing to tell you what an upstanding young gentleman I am. Really, I see no downside for you.” Before Madge could even respond a portly middle-aged man approached the two of them, shaking Gale's hand and sweeping him off to introduce him to some important city official or another. Sarah caught Madge's eye from the opposite side of the room, a stern scowl on her face as she slowly shook her head. The message was clear. Stay away from that one.

 

Madge nursed her drink and watched the room with disinterest. Very few people bothered with her. She sidestepped the few questions posed to her about the benefit, focusing most of her energy on observing Gale. He navigated the room with ease, occasionally casting a smile back in her direction. Whatever these people thought of him, it was a far cry from what she knew. If the man tossing loud jokes around about Gale's towing work had any idea what had gone on in that truck a few days before he would have choked on his drink.

 

“You must be Madge,” a tall, slender woman said, holding her hand out as she approached the bar. Madge accepted the handshake, offering a carefully honed smile and nodding. “Gale's had plenty to say about you. You piss him off, you know, by not buying into his bullshit. I like that.”

 

“I'm sorry, who are you?” Madge said. She was no stranger to people beginning conversations with oddly personal details they'd picked up from the paper, but diving in with crudely phrased and oddly personal details about someone else was new.

 

“Sorry,” the woman laughed, touching her hand to Madge's shoulder. “I'm Hazelle. Gale's mother. I've been watching you watch him most of the night,” she winked.

 

“Oh! Oh, um, sorry,” Madge pressed her eyes closed and shook her head. “Hi. It's nice to meet you.”

 

“No need to apologize,” Hazelle waved her hand dismissively. “I'm just glad to have met someone who isn't buying into what he's tricked everyone else in this room into thinking.” She smiled, clinking her glass against Madge's before taking a drink. Madge just laughed, unsure of how to take this woman.

 

“Ma,” Gale called from a few feet away, his head cocked to the side and a pained look on his face.

 

“Oh, I'm embarrassing him,” she laughed. “Wouldn't want that. Hopefully I'll see you around.” She patted Madge's knee affectionately, pinching Gale's cheek as she passed him. He rolled his eyes, excusing himself from his conversation and returning to the bar.

 

“What did she say to you?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder in the direction Hazelle had left.

 

“She said I piss you off,” Madge smirked.

 

“You do,” Gale chuckled and shook his head. After a moment he gestured toward the room. “I know you've been paying attention. Have I convinced you yet?”

 

“Is that what this is for? Trying to show off for me?” she raised an eyebrow, draining her glass and setting it on the bar behind her.

 

“Yes,” Gale nodded, his voice solemn. “Six years ago I realized that one day I might fuck a senator's daughter in the basement of a bar and would realize I needed some way to woo her into an actual relationship afterward.”

 

“Fuck you,” Madge laughed, shaking her head and looking away.

 

“So, did it work?” he grinned. “Or do you need another test drive before you buy?”

 

“What do you think?” she turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I think the bathroom is two doors down on the left,” he nodded toward the doors. Madge held his gaze for a moment, pretending to consider the idea, though she'd already made up her mind. She slid off of her chair, brushing against him as she did, and left the room without looking back. Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the bathroom. She threw her clutch on the counter, lifting herself to sit between the sinks. If he was fucking with her, or kept her waiting too long, she had every intention of leaving the dinner altogether.

 

Gale stepped into the room a moment later, pulling off his suit coat as he crossed the shiny tile floor to her. He tossed it beside her, standing between her knees and crushing his mouth against hers. Madge chuckled into his mouth, draping her arms around his neck and shifting forward to hook her legs around his. Gale's hands slid up her thighs and under the hem of her dress.

 

“Oh, you're fucking kidding me,” he groaned, letting out a chuckle as he looked down between them; her dress riding up as he took hold of her hips. She hadn't worn panties.

 

“It's a tight dress,” she smirked, dropping one hand to tug at his belt.

 

“Not complaining,” he said, kissing her again and slipping his hand between her thighs. The anticipation had her wet already, and Gale pushed his fingers into her as his tongue swept through her mouth. She let out a quiet whine, rolling her hips against his hand and shoving at his pants, wrapping her hand around his cock the instant she had it free. He let out a quiet growl, pushing her back against the mirror and yanking her hips to the edge of the counter. Madge licked her lips, watching him through heavily-lidded eyes as he pulled a condom from his wallet and rolled it on. He lifted her legs, pressing them together and draping them over one shoulder. She closed her eyes when she felt him press against her, leaning on her elbows and tilting her head back, waiting for him to press into her. He didn't move.

 

“Don't fucking tease me,” she opened one eye, pressing her tongue between her lips.

 

“Just wanted to enjoy how fucking sexy you look right now,” he said, pushing her dress up a bit more as he took hold of her hips and slammed into her, forcing a high, sharp cry from her that echoed through the room. He grinned, barely easing his pace. “And you need to keep quiet.”

 

“Fuck you,” she hissed, gripping the edge of the sink as he pumped into her. Gale wrapped one arm around her thighs, pinning her to him and pressing them tighter together. She sucked in a slow, shaky breath; forcing herself to stay quiet as she tightened around him. He grunted softly, biting down on his lower lip so hard Madge fully expected him to draw blood. “Gale.”

 

“Fuck,” he said quietly, letting go of her legs. Madge shoved him back, wrapping them around his waist before pulling him close again, reaching between them and curling her fingers around his cock, guiding him back into her. He leaned forward to kiss her, driving himself deeper in the process, and she shuddered with the effort to hold back her moans. Gale panted against her mouth, his lips hovering over hers. His voice was low and raspy. “Not gonna fucking last.”

 

“You'd better make me come,” she said, nipping at his lips and hooking one arm around his neck. He chuckled, reaching between them to rub her clit. She gasped at the contact, arching her back to bear down against it, and in the same moment the door to the bathroom flew open.

 

“Oh my god!” Sarah shouted, scrambling to shut the bathroom door behind her and flick the deadbolt closed. “You couldn't even fucking do this in a _stall_?”

 

“ _Get out_!” Madge snapped. Gale swore, trying to pull away from her. She just tightened her legs around him. “Don't you fucking stop.”

 

“Madge,” he chuckled nervously.

 

“You _need_ to stop!” Sarah threw her hands in the air.

 

“I'll stop when I'm done now _get the fuck out_!”

 

“I think uh, I'm—I'm definitely done,” Gale carefully pulled Madge's legs off of his waist and ducked into one of the stalls, shoving the door closed behind him.

 

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” Madge snapped at Sarah, hopping down from the counter and straightening out her dress.

 

“You're disgusting, do you realize that?” Sarah said, reaching into her clutch and throwing a package of wet wipes at Madge. “Honestly. With _him_? You know he's supposed to be giving a speech in five minutes, right? And you're in here _ruining_ his reputation with that black hole between your legs.”

 

“This was his idea, thank you very much,” Madge snapped, tearing a wipe from the package and hiking her skirt back up to wipe herself clean.

 

“Oh my god,” Sarah covered her eyes and turned away.

 

“And I'm pretty sure he was enjoying my black hole, actually,” she said.

 

“I was,” Gale chimed in from the closed stall.

 

“What if I hadn't found you in here? What if it had been someone else? That damn door has a _lock_ on it and you couldn't even be bothered?” Sarah glanced over her shoulder as Madge tossed the wipe in the trash, smoothing her dress back down. “And I _highly doubt_ that _Gale Hawthorne_ is in the business of fucking strangers in public restrooms. That's _your_ scene. What the _hell_ am I going to tell your father about this?”

 

“Well, we're not exactly strangers,” Gale said, emerging from the stall completely recomposed as if none of it had happened. He looped his arm around Madge's shoulders. “We've been seeing each other for a while now, but kept things quiet because of my social standing. Madge was concerned about how it would reflect on Mr. Undersee's campaign.”

 

“I—what?” Sarah paused, looking between the two of them. Madge just smiled, leaning against Gale and looping her arm around his waist. “You have? You were?”

 

“I was,” Madge nodded. Sarah just gaped at her for a minute before pressing her eyes closed and shaking her head.

 

“Whatever, fine. Just get yourself put back together and get back out there, please,” she snapped, whirling on her heel. Her dramatic exit from the bathroom halted as she spent a few seconds fumbling with the lock.

 

“So, now will you go out with me?” Gale grinned as Madge pulled away from him.

 

“Oh my god, fine,” she laughed, turning toward the mirror and straightening out her hair. She snatched a paper towel from the dispenser, wiping away her smudged lipstick.

 

“Thank you,” Gale pushed her hair over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck before picking up his jacket and turning to leave the room.


End file.
